all we have is time
by unravel
Summary: Semi-AU Time Traveler's Wife Quinn/Puck fic. "She's always leaving him no matter what.  Whenever she's going, she's leaving him."
1. seven years old

Luckily, when Quinn stumbles into the clearing, there's a blanket and a t-shirt waiting for her. She would've hoped for a bit more clothes. Even as a child, Puck is very aware of breasts and what's between a woman's legs. She can only hope that, whenever she is, Puck is maybe not old enough to try to look up her shirt.

She spreads the blanket out on the grass and it turns out that there's a sandwich rolled up in the flannel. He's being thoughtful. She sits and starts to eat, trying to determine what year it is. Turns out the sandwich is peanut butter marshmallow fluff, which is seven year old Puck's favorite, and she's halfway through the sandwich when he comes walking into the field. She was right. Noah Puckerman is seven years old, maybe almost eight. He's hunched over and tense with energy and angst, hands shoved forcefully into his pockets, the hood of his light fall jacket pulled over his head. He walks right over to the blanket and sits down, not looking at her. This doesn't surprise her. Second grade is hard for Puck. He's mean and a bully. He has no one to come in for career day because his mom is too busy. He tries to cover it up, says he doesn't care because his dad is a rock star and better than everyone else and their stupid parents. He pushes the small blonde girl away at recess when she tries to hug him. He pulls her pig tails. Quinn watches him look down at his lap with a frown. She finishes her sandwich.

"Puck?"

The small, olive skinned, already-mohawked seven-year-old doesn't look up at her. His hands are still shoved in his pockets and his face is tight and pursed. He's walked all the way out here, but he's not going to be happy about it.

"Puck, do you want to talk to me?"

He twitches a little, his head turning away from her to look at the grass that surrounds the blanket. She's almost surprised when he opens his mouth.

"Did people make fun of you when you were my age?"

Quinn can't help but smile. Puck is… always Puck. No matter what age. She sighs, shifting a little closer to him on the blanket.

"Sure. Everyone gets made fun of, Puck." He stares off into the grass for another long moment before he looks up at her. It takes everything inside her to not reach out and cup his tiny little face in her hands. This is what Beth would've looked like at seven, all endlessly dark eyes and full lips.

"Why would anyone make fun of you?"

This makes Quinn frown. He looks genuinely curious.

"What do you mean?"

"You're the prettiest grown-up I've ever seen and you have tits."

"I told you not that use that word. That's a bad word, Puck." He grins at her and it's dark and menacing already, the grin she's used to when he's about to ask her to do something dirty. He already has this grin at seven years old.

"So? You're not the boss of me." He stands up but doesn't walk away, just kicks at the grass and the dirt, standing a bit away from the blanket. She watches him intently, careful to keep her knees together. She's sure he only gave her a t-shirt on purpose.

"Do you use that word in front of your mom? Or Sarah?"

When he speaks, it comes out as a grumble. He resents her for knowing so much stuff that he's never told her. Sarah is only one right now and he's learning to be the overly protective big brother. "No…"

"Then you shouldn't use it in front of me." He kicks at the dirt again and there's a long silence until she's sure he's ready to talk about something else. "Who was making fun of you, Puck?"

"Quinn Fabray."

Quinn swallows thickly, trying to keep her face neutral. Later in his life, Puck will look at his wife one day and realize who she is. But that's years and years from the time the two of them sit in right now. Puck keeps talking.

"She yelled at me again today. She's so mean and she thinks she's better than everyone else."

Quinn wants to cry. She wants to cry every time she's here and they have to talk about this. She wants to grab him and tell him it's not her fault, it's not her fault her father was all she knew when she was little, that she was such a scared kid that did whatever she thought was cool. Even hurting the weird kid with the Mohawk who got in trouble for setting the swing set on fire with matches he brought from home. Instead she looks down at her lap, unable to look at him anymore. He keeps talking.

"So I pulled her braid. And at lunch I poured her milk all over her head when she made fun of me for only having a sandwich." Quinn looks up at him sharply and at his words she vividly remembers the feeling of the milk streaming down her face, Santana laughing in her ear as she looked up at him, his face hurt and sad. The way her heart looked.

"Puck…" Her voice is soft enough that she's not sure if she even wants him to hear her but he looks up at her all the same, his eyebrows knitted together and his gaze intense. At seven, Puck is trying to figure out what he's going to be. "Puck, what's the date?" He thinks for a second before he checks his Incredible Hulk watch, his favorite thing in the whole world besides his mom and Sarah.

"October 29th, 2000." She nods as he looks up at her.

"Thank you." In two days, at Santana Lopez's Halloween party, seven year old Noah Puckerman will walk in on seven year old Quinn Fabray changing into her Belle costume in the bathroom. It'll be the first time he sees boobs. He won't tell her that until ten years later. She was thoroughly convinced he never saw anything.

"Are you really from the future, Q?" It's the first time he's addressed her by that name, the name she told him to call her in a effort to not confuse him. He doesn't know who she is, not really.

"I told you I was, didn't I?" He kicks at the dirt one more time before he lays down on the blanket, arms spread out. One of them almost reaches her knee.

"Yeah. But you could be lying. People lie all the time."

"I'm not lying, Puck. I would never lie to you, okay?" He turns his head, looking up at her.

"Do you know me in the future?" He's never asked her a question like that before. Usually he's so content with knowing that she's from the future and that is that.

"Maybe."

He grins at her, wide and toothy. "You totally do!"

She laughs, rubbing her hand over her forehead. He continues. "Tell me shit."

"Don't use words like that, Puck."

"Tell me _stuff_."

She sighs, giving him a look. "I can't do that."

"Why not? That's so unfair."

"I can't just tell you things. What about everyone else? That's unfair to them." He licks his lips, his face concentrated as he watches her.

"Am I married? I hope not. Do I have a girlfriend? I bet I have three girlfriends. I bet they're all hot." He nods as if this is fact and turns to look up at the sky. "I bet I've done dirty things with you like I saw Mrs. Langford doing with the principal."

"Puck." Her voice is sharp enough to make him look back at her, his expression scared. He doesn't like it when grownups talk to him like that.

"Jesus, what?"

"Don't talk about me like that. I'm a grown up. You can't talk about me like that."

He frowns at her, sitting up. "But you're not just a grown up. You're my friend." Her breath catches in her throat a little. This is a word she's never heard him use at this age. He stares at her seriously. "You're my friend, Q." Her eyes start to water and she looks down at her lap. Her eyes close as she takes a deep breath but she starts to cry anyways. In the future, Puck is mad at her.

She doesn't know how long she sits there crying but before she realizes it, he's crawled into her lap and is wrapping his skinny arms around her. And Quinn wraps her own arms around his tiny frame and squeezes him tightly, crying into the crook of his neck. One of his hands smoothes her hair awkwardly, something his mom does to him when he's upset.

"Don't cry, Q." And she laughs, pulling away to take his small face between her hands tightly. He blinks back at her and he's everything she knows he is and everything that he's going to be. He's hers.

"I have to go now, Puck." He nods, climbing off of her lap as she stands, her head buzzing. Impulsively, he reaches up, grabbing her hand and she looks down at him. "I'll be back. I promise." He nods up at her.

"Say hi to me in the future. Okay? Do you promise?" She laughs again, squeezing his hand before she leans down to kiss the top of his Mohawk.

"I promise." When she pulls away, he's looking at her seriously.

"Are you happy in the future?" She tries to make herself stay, but it's hard. She feels dizzy.

"Don't worry about me."

"Whoever you're with… in the future… you're probably married since you're a grown up, but I hope he's nice and not mean and doesn't leave you like my dad left my mom." She wants to cry again but her head is swimming.

"Okay, Puck."

"Tell him I'll beat him up if he hurts you. Tell him that." He balls up his tiny fist and shakes it at her, making a growling noise. She's laughing as she falls back onto the living room carpet, her head bouncing. Her leg knocks the coffee table over. She's still laughing as Puck appears, thirty and Mohawk-less, in the doorway.

"Shit! Quinn, are you okay?" And he's kneeling beside her, pulling her upper body into his lap. He's used to her appearing, injured and cold and bleeding and naked in various rooms of their house. She shakes her head at him, her body still shaking with laughter. He looks down at her, confused and worried. After a minute, when the laughter subsides, she catches her breath, looking up at him. Her hand grabs at the collar of his shirt absentmindedly.

"Still mad at me?"

He blinks down at her before he shakes his head. "Nah." She nods. "When were you?"

"October 29th, 2000."

He grins slowly, trying to calculate this in his head. She attempts to jog his memory.

"You told me you were going to beat up whoever I was married to if he ever left me." And it's his turn to laugh, holding her tightly to him.

"That's a promise." He kisses her forehead. Quinn reaches up, putting her hand on his cheek.

"I'm sorry… about when we were kids—"

"Quinn, stop it." And she does. Because it's in the past. They are here and now. And Puck may have to do a lot of waiting around for her, but every time she returns and he's still here, still waiting, she becomes surer of the fact that this was inevitable.


	2. sixteen years old

They're having a lazy, sleepy Saturday laying in bed. Quinn doesn't even read or anything. They just wake up and he wraps his arms around her and they doze like that for a while until they're fully awake. When she talks, she mumbles into his chest. "Puck?"

"Mmm." She looks up at him and his eyes are closed but he's awake. Just tired. Always tired. She watches his face even though he keeps his eyes closed.

"Do you ever think about Beth?"

His brow furrows, ruining the perfect smooth surface of his forehead. Puck is getting old. He's getting lines. It makes him look distinguished and weathered and like an adult and she likes it but he's changing right in front of her. She's sure she's doing the same thing too. Time is creeping up on them, ironically. He licks his lips before he speaks. "Of course. She's the only kid we're gonna have, Q."

Quinn closes her eyes tightly at his words. They thought it over. The traveling, she worries her too much. No fetus can live inside her and still be safe in her condition. She can never keep a kid safe. When she was sixteen, before the traveling started, it wasn't something she had to think about. Now it's all she thinks about. She's about to answer before she feels her head start to swim. "P-puck…"

He sits up a little, looking down at her as he grabs her arm. "Quinn." She looks up at him, helpless. He shakes his head. "No. Stay." She's reaching up to touch his face.

"I can't." And she's not in their bed anymore but rolling in the grass naked until she finally stops, blinking at the harsh light of afternoon sun in the field. Dirty and bruised from her landing, Quinn sits up, hand against a lump that's forming on her forehead. Once her vision clears, she gets her bearings. A few feet away, on the familiar flannel blanket, is a sixteen year old Puck. This is what she has been dreading. Puck's told her she only visited him once when he was sixteen and he won't say any more. He won't talk about it. And now she's here, about to find out why.

He's leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him. He still has his Mohawk. Quinn has a sick feeling in her stomach. He doesn't look happy, not even looking up at her, not acknowledging her presence at all. There's a t-shirt waiting for her at the edge of the blanket, blessedly close to her. At this age, Puck does nothing to hide the fact that he's staring at her breasts when she appears naked if he's already there waiting for her. Quinn snatches up the shirt and tugs it on quickly. He still hasn't said anything. Puck just stares at his feet, his gaze concentrated and… hurt. Quinn knows that expression all too well. She knows when she is.

"Puck—"

"You knew, didn't you?" He looks up at her, his face unapologetic and his eyes stab at her. He's angry a lot at sixteen. More than usual.

"Puck."

He scoffs, looking away from her as he shakes his head. He's so cold. She's not used to this. As a teenager, she's used to Puck trying to have sex with her. The last couple times she's visited him as a teenager, that's all he's tried to do. Right now, he won't even look at her for more than a few seconds. "What the fuck am I saying, of course you knew. It's you. You knew it would happen and you just let it happen. You're such a fucking idiot, Q." She inhales sharply, like he's slapped her. She lowers herself to sit down next to him but he just switches their positions, standing up and taking a few steps away from her.

"Puck, I couldn't do anything."

"You could do everything, Q! You could've told me not to do it! Jesus, Q, you know you're just hurting yourself, you know that right?" He turns to glare at her again, jaw clenched. It's her turn to look away.

"You know that's not how it works. It happened and there's nothing I could do to stop it."

"So what happens now? Huh?" He takes a step towards her and when she looks up at him, she doesn't recognize the menacing expression on his face. She stands up in an effort to not have the lower ground. He just takes another step towards her, not backing away. "You give her away? She goes on never knowing us? Huh? What happens, Q?" Puck grabs her wrists, shaking her. At sixteen, Puck is in the peak physical condition of his life. She's going to have bruises, she can feel it.

"Puck, let me go." She tries to make her voice firm. She's the adult. She is older, much older than him and she is the adult. She tugs at her wrists but he doesn't let go, bringing his face close to hers. She can feel his breath on her mouth.

"You fucking bitch. You're a fucking bitch and apparently that's all you're ever going to be."

He leers at her and she feels his grip go slack for a moment and she frees one of her hands and slaps it across his right cheek. He lets go of her, his hand lifting up to grab his jaw. She takes a step away from him, shaking and when he looks at her, his eyes are dark. Quinn swallows thickly, hoping she doesn't look scared. Because she is scared. There's a part of her that's seen this part of him and knows what he's capable of. So she's scared. They stand a few feet apart for a long moment until she decides to be the one to break the silence.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that. Ever." Her chest is heaving and she can hear her heart pounding in her ears she's so angry. It's hard for her to see the man she's married in the teenager in front of her. In this moment she's sure they must be different people. And suddenly he's hand is grabbing the back of her neck and he's kissing her. She makes a protesting noise, her hands on his chest as she pushes against him but he holds her firmly and his tongue parts her lips for a moment until she frees herself. She pulls away, looking at him with a look that she's sure no longer hides her fear. He's panting too but his expression is different as he looks back at her.

"Do you have kids?"

She's not sure she heard him right, shaking her head. "W-what?" His hand is still holding the back of her neck.

"In the future, do you have kids? Do you have a family?"

She doesn't know what to do so she answers him. "I… I have a husband." His grip on her neck tightens, forcing her to fall against him.

"You don't have kids?"

"No."

And he's kissing her again, arms wrapping around her waist under his flimsy McKinley High Athletics shirt. Quinn tenses before her own arms wrap around his neck. This is sixteen-year-old Puck. The Puck she let herself get to know. The Puck that became her closest friend. This is the Noah Puckerman Quinn Fabray let herself fall in love with. A pregnant teenager living in a strange house with a family that wasn't hers, waking up in the middle of the night and not knowing where or who she was for a few moments. Her first sexual experiences. They are with this Puck.

He's laying her down on the blanket, fumbling to get his jeans unbuttoned and pushed down his thighs. He kisses her again, an arm sliding under her head as he guides himself into her. Quinn's arms wrap up and around his shoulders as she moans. And he's fucking her like they're the only two people in the world, groaning in her ear and on her neck and Quinn closes her eyes and lets herself be sixteen years old too and they're in his bedroom and she's trying to tell him to be quiet cause his sister is asleep but she's moaning too loudly and then they're lost in themselves and won't be found until the climax sneaks up on them and they're shaking and calling each other's names. Quinn's fingernails dig into his shoulders, her hips moving against his as she moans his name.

"Puck… oh god, yes…"

His hand grabs her hair in response, his body curved over hers as he thrusts aimlessly into with everything he can. "Fuck fuck fuck, Q, you feel so fucking good." He grunts and as he shudders and his grip on her hair tightens. Quinn bites down on her lip, her stomach muscles already twisting and tensing.

"P-puck… I-I…"

He pulls his face away from her neck, his gaze finding hers. "Fucking come, Q." He grits his teeth and his eyes slip shut as he groans and she knows he's close. She knows everything about this Puck. Quinn's head tilts back and she shakes under him as she comes, moaning loudly.

"Puck!"

Puck groans in response and he lets go of her hair to put his hand next to her head, his back arching at his release. He moans her name in that way that only sixteen year old Puck can. Her hands press against his chest as she watches him, panting. Puck's head ducks down again, hanging between his shoulders as they both try to catch their breath. She opens her mouth to say something when she gets the feeling like there's a bee hive in her head. _Oh no, not now. Please._ Quinn reaches up to grab his face desperately and he opens his eyes to look down at her, his brow furrowed. He recognizes her expression and his hand grabs her wrist. She's always leaving him no matter what. Whenever she's going, she's leaving him.

"Take deep breaths, you can make yourself stay."

She's still panting as she feels herself start to dissolve. "I want to stay, I want to."

"Then stay! Just stay here!"

She can hear him yelling at her as her body bounces against the mattress and her eyes focus in on the ceiling of their bedroom. She's sprawled out across the comforter and she can hear in the shower running as she orients herself in the present. After a minute, when she knows when she is and has taken stock of all her limbs and knows she's fully there, Quinn starts to cry, curling up on her side and wrapping her arms around her head. She's still shaking as she hears the bathroom door open.

"Quinn?" The mattress shifts with the weight change and he's leaning over her, pulling her onto her back and cupping her face with one hand, his face worried like it always is when she appears back to him in the present. He wants to know when she was. She sobs, watching his face.

"Puck, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Baby…" He still doesn't know what's happening but he sits down on the bed in his towel and wraps his arms around her. She leans against his wet skin, crying as she shakes her head.

"I shouldn't have given her up. I shouldn't have let her go. She could've been ours and—"

"Shh. Stop." He pulls away, taking her face in his hands and he kisses her, his first and foremost solution whenever she's upset. Puck pushes the hair out of her eyes, looking at her intently. "Listen. Somewhere she's out there and she's happy. What matters is that we have each other and you're always with me, no matter when you are. Okay?" Quinn takes deep breaths, trying to focus on him but she feels so tired. So tired of leaving. She closes her eyes, her head lolling against his hand.

"I.. I love you."

He kisses her forehead, pulling her against him again. "I love you too, traveler." Quinn giggles, wrapping her arms around him. "When were you?"

She frowns. She didn't get the date. But then she remembers the fact that she only visited him once at that age. Quinn pulls her head away so she can look up at him. "You were sixteen." A dark look passes over his face before he squeezes her, resting his chin on top of her head.

"I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "Don't apologize."

"I was messed up. I was really mad at you."

"I know."

He squeezes her again and they sit in silence. It's hard to think of him as the same boy who grabbed her all those years ago, the same boy who was so angry and wanted to prove himself to someone for once. But she knows it's him. It's always him. No matter when she is.


	3. thirty one years old

I shouldn't miss her because whenever she is, she's with me. But I'm fucking selfish. I deserve to be, you know? I married her so she couldn't go anywhere, so she couldn't leave. But even that didn't work. She can't wear a wedding ring. She just keeps it in her bedside table. Guess it makes sense, since it'd probably just get lost anyways. But it just sits in our bedside table. Dudes hit on her when she goes out, I just know it. I mean, she's fucking hot. I would hit on her too. I do hit on her. I just don't want other douchebags thinking she's up for grabs. She's not. She's mine. She's always been mine.

When she's gone, all I wanna do is be a lazy shit and lie around and wait for her to come back. Time goes so much slower when I know she's some-when else with me. But she's not in the present, which sucks. No matter what, there's always gonna be a version of me somewhere that's without her. We all want her just as badly all at the same time and it's not possible. It's unfair. Nothing about this is fair. For once, can she just stay with me when I need her? Those are always the times when she's leaving.

No one else even knows what it feels like to fuck your wife and when you're lying in bed and cuddling and being all sweet and shit, she suddenly just dissolves and you're laying there alone even though you can still feel her around you. No one can even come close to saying they know what that feels like. Fucking her, it's like the only thing that makes me feel like she's here, she's in the present and she's with me. Thinking about it though, when she's gone, god it just really fucking hurts. To know she's off somewhere possibly fucking some other me in another time. I mean good for him but man, I would give fucking anything to have her here with me right now. I bet he doesn't even appreciate it either. I know he doesn't appreciate it.

I'd give anything for a kid. A little Quinn who could just be around when she's not here, a kid who will always be with me when she's gone so I'm never without her. But she says we can't. I say it's possible, that it will be okay and she says no. And she knows best.

And then suddenly, I'll be cooking myself some dinner or something and she's there, banging into the wall or the couch and laughing or crying or something extreme. She can never come back and be in a fucking normal mood. I'll either look over and she's there completely sobbing and miserable and I have to fucking apologize for shit I barely even remember doing or she's laughing like a crazy bitch and hugging me and I don't really even know why but yeah, I hug her back because she's my wife and she's back and she's here. And sometimes she'll fuck me, which is cool 'cause I've missed her. But then we have to catch up and put together this gigantic puzzle that is our fucked up relationship.

I love her though. Shit, I love her more than anything. I mean, I've been in love with her since I was, like, five, before I could even understand what in the hell was going on. She was just there and she was the first naked chick I ever saw and it was awesome. She's some of my earliest memories, the ones that weren't my mom crying and being all depressed when my dad left. She was there before I even knew who she was. She was there. She was everything. She is everything. She's the first.

And that's why I wait.


	4. fourteen years old

There are always gaps. Things that he knows that Quinn don't know yet. She's never ahead of him like he's ahead of her. He's had this whole relationship with her, since he was a little kid, and she's only just now living it out. She tries to make him give her hints to what hasn't happened yet. It never works.

They eating dinner because he's made me his moms kugel, which he rarely ever makes so something's up. Quinn chews slowly, watching him across the table. She's trying to get him to fill in the gaps. "How old was I the first time you saw me?"

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he takes a bite. "Older than you are now. So I'm not telling you." Quinn rolls her eyes and pouts. She watches him chew for a long time until he gives her a weird look. "What?" She shakes her head.

"Nothing, I just… It's so funny how you always look the same. And still different every time."

He quirks his head at her, swallowing his food. "What does that mean? Do you miss the 'hawk?" He runs a hand over his shaved head, smirking at her. Quinn pretends to be disgusted.

"Oh god, no. It's bad enough that it practically haunts me." Puck laughs, leaning his chair back on its two back legs which always makes Quinn nervous for some reason. He folds his hands on his stomach and when she looks up at him she can tell he wants to talk about what he really wanted to talk about in the first place. "Yes?"

"I want to have a kid, Q."

Quinn winces a little. They haven't talked about this subject in a while. They talk about Beth sometimes, but they rarely talk about kids in the present tense anymore. It hurts too much. It hurts Quinn. Apparently he doesn't feel the same. "Puck…"

He leans forward, grabbing her hand that's resting on the table, clutching it tightly. Quinn watches their folded hands as he talks. "Just hear me out, okay? I know you're scared that you're gonna hurt it or something's gonna happen but Q, you have to trust me. I need a baby. I need something that's always gonna be with me when you can't be." And when she looks up from their hands he has this look in his eyes that she's never seen before. She's never seen him act like he needs something. He tells her he needs her when they're pulling their clothes off and tossing them around their house or when they wake up in the morning right before he needs to go to work. But this… this is different. He's asking her for a way to stay. She's never thought it about it that way before this. It happens when she's reaching out to touch his face. It's quick this time and she doesn't have time to say goodbye.

"Oh." Quinn sees her husband's eyebrows knit together as he reaches out to grab her and she's not touching his face anymore but landing on her ass in the field like her chair has been yanked out from under her.

Puck isn't there yet so she has no idea when she is but there's a flannel button up and a thermos of hot chocolate waiting for her. There's also some pretty thick socks and she's grateful because, whenever she is, it's fall in Ohio and its cold. The blanket is there waiting, too, and she spreads it out, pulls the socks and the button-up on and settles down, waiting for him as she sips at her hot chocolate.

After a half an hour or so, Puck is trudging through the field to the grass. She can't tell, but he looks like a teenager, Mohawk in its prime. She smiles to herself a little as he sits down on the blanket.

"Hey, Puck."

He looks up at her, sighing loudly. "Hey, Q."

"Thank you for the hot chocolate and the shirt and the socks."

Puck nods, her mouth quirking into a smile. "No problem. It's cold as fuck."

"Don't curse. You know, it'd wouldn't hurt if you could maybe bring me some pants or some underwear every once in a while."

His smile turns into a dark smirk. It's expressions like these that remind her that he's always the same. Always. "Nah."

Quinn tilts her head at him, frowning a little. "How old are you right now?"

"Fourteen."

She nods. "You need to start bringing me pants, Puck."

He's still smirking at her. "No."

"Puck—"

"No, I'm not bringing you pants, Q. So you can stop asking." He stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands.

"Why not?"

Puck licks his lips, eyeing her in a way that makes her uncomfortable. She does not like where this is going. She remembers Puck at this age. Menacing. "Cause you're hot. Why the fuck would I give you more clothes? You're lucky I bring you clothes at all."

"Puck, I'm twice your age."

"So? Moms are hot. I'd fuck someone's mom. I'd fuck you."

"Puck." Quinn snaps and she can tell it makes him flinch but he doesn't want to be weak. He wants to be in charge of this conversation. He doesn't think of her as adult. This is the problem.

"Damn, Q. It's a fucking compliment. It's not like you would let me fuck you anyways." He looks away as he speaks and his voice almost sounds hurt. Slowly, Quinn starts to smirk. He doesn't see it though, picking at the lint on the blanket as he keeps talking. "I wanna fuck Santana Lopez."

Quinn almost scoffs. In her present, Santana is her friend through e-mails and phone correspondence and they keep in touch and Quinn knows the names of all her kids for Christmas card purposes. But in high school… Santana and Quinn are competitors. One of their competitions is sitting right in front of her. "You do?"

Puck nods, looking back up at her. "Yeah. We talk about it a lot and I think I'm ready to fuck someone."

Quinn sighs. She already knows the end of this story but they have to have this talk, apparently. "You're fourteen, Puck."

He shrugs. "So? Aren't you supposed to do it when you're ready? I'm ready. Santana's ready. She's already sucked my dick and I've fingered her so I don't see what the big deal is."

Hearing him talk like this at this age is difficult. Even as a kid, Puck at least had some hint of innocence, he could get by with her brushing his words away like he doesn't know what he's saying. Teenaged Puck, though, she can't use this excuse on him. She's not quite sure but somewhere down the path, Puck lost any trace of that. Sex is just that last piece of the puzzle. He knows it too.

Quinn chooses her words carefully. She can't tell him anything because she didn't. So she must've said the right thing. "Just… wait, Puck." He looks up at her, confused.

"Huh? Didn't you hear anything I just said?"

Quinn laughs a little, looking down at her lap as she bites her lip. "It'll happen. You just have to wait for it, okay?" When she looks back up he's still staring at her.

"You're not making any fucking sense…" His voice drifts off for a second before he grins at her. "You're jealous."

"What?"

He lets out a laugh, leaning forward over his legs toward her, his finger tilting her chin up towards his face in the most condescending way possible. Quinn jerks away from him. He laughs again. "So fucking jealous! You're jealous that I'm going to fuck Santana!"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I'm not." And she isn't. She knows how this ends. But he sticks his tongue out at her.

"Jealous."

"Puck—"

"I could fuck you right now and you wouldn't have to be jealous anymore."

She looks over at him and his eyebrows are raised playfully but she knows he's serious. Ever since he figured out what sex was, he's wanted it to be her. Santana is just a proxy. Because he can't have her. Or how she is right now at least. "You can't fuck me."

He grabs her ankles and she jumps a little. His eyes are dark. "I want to. I would. Just let me." His hands are sliding up her legs and she pushes them off.

"I told you. Wait."

He huffs, angry now as he stands, walking away from the blanket. "Fuck you, Q."

Quinn stands too, starting after him as she feels the socks start to slip off her feet. "Puck, wait—"

But she's falling into their bathtub in the pitch black bathroom, probably bruising her ass. "Ow. Fuck." And the light flips on as the door opens, Puck stumbling in as he blinks in the light. She woke him up.

"Quinn…?" She laughs a little, her legs falling out of their huge claw-foot tub, splayed out. He's in his boxers and she's naked. He focuses down at her, trying to make himself wake up. He stares at her for a long moment before he starts to laugh to, settling on the edge of the bathtub. She doesn't move as he reaches out and pushes her hair out of her face. "When…" He's too sleepy to finish his question, blinking lazily as he lets his eyes wander over her in a much nicer way than he had done at fourteen just moments ago.

"You were fourteen and telling me you were going to fuck Santana Lopez." She reaches up to put a hand on his cheek like she had tried to do earlier. This time she doesn't go anywhere. He leans into her touch, chuckling softly.

"I did fuck her."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "Yeah. But she wasn't first." He chuckles again, taking her hand from his face and kisses her knuckles before she climbs into the tub. He lies down beside her and she shifts up against him. There's barely enough room for the both of them but the tub is fairly big and they can hold each other tight enough to fit. He holds her naked against his bare chest and doesn't bring up kids. His chin rests on top of her head and she closes her eyes, her face pressing into his neck.

"That's right. She wasn't first."


	5. fifteen years old

The first time Quinn travels, it's the day before her seventeenth birthday. She's sitting in the tub in her mom's house and she can hear her mom singing, probably drunkenly, to the radio downstairs in the kitchen. She's already had and given up the only kid she might have with her future husband. Quinn slides into the tub, sinking down until the water covers her face up to her nose. It happens when she closes her eyes, the dizziness, the dissolving feeling. Quinn grabs the edges of the tub, sitting up as she takes a deep breath, trying to make it go away. When she reaches to put her hand on her forehead, her hand isn't there and then the rest of her isn't either.

At least the first time she lands in the meadow, she doesn't bruise or almost break anything. She kind of just falls back onto the blanket, her legs splayed out in the grass where the blanket ends. And there's a laugh to her right and when she opens her eyes Puck is standing over her and she's completely naked. Quinn snatches the blanket up and luckily he isn't standing on it so she can pull it around herself. He's still laughing when she sits up, trying to figure out what just happened. "What…"

Puck is sitting down on the grass next to her. She eyes him tentatively. In the present she just came from, the last time she saw him was at school and he had smacked her ass when she was walking up the stairs in front of him. He's mad at her for not dating him. Before she can continue though, he finally starts talking. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say cause you didn't tell me, but you look confused and like yourself… so I guess is this the first time you traveled."

Quinn blinks at him again. "What?"

Puck scratches the back of his head, shrugging. "Yeah, you're a time traveler or some weird shit like that. You always told me you were super confused the first time it happened."

He's not being very helpful and Quinn slides her tongue over her cracked lips because she realizes she's been panting. She holds the blanket around herself a little tighter. "I don't… understand—"

"The year is 2009. What year was it where you came from?"

Her head is swimming and it takes her a bit to form the words. "2010…"

"Oh, cool. So you're what, seventeen?"

Quinn shakes her head, closing her eyes. Just answering these questions takes so much thought. 2009? How can it be 2009… "No, I'm sixteen. My birthday is… tomorrow…" Her voice trails off and he cocks his head at her, smiling a bit.

"Well, happy birthday, baby." And he leans over and kisses her. In the present, she would slap Puck if he did this. So that's what she does. Her palm stings and his cheek turns red from the contact and he pulls away, rubbing his jaw. "What the fuck was that for?"

Quinn shakes her head, shifting away from him. "I… what… don't kiss me." He looks at her, still working his jaw for a moment before his hand goes to her thigh, leaning forward. She puts her hand on his chest. "Stop—"

"Damn, you've never been this young before…" His hand slips under the blanket and grabs her thigh. He pulls her closer and she falls back with the motion, squirming to get away. At sixteen-almost-seventeen, Quinn has had sex a handful of times. The time she got pregnant and a few times when he was able to convince the baby-hormones version of her that it would make her feel better. But this… this is different. Puck leans over her, one of his hands threading into her hair as he tries to pull the blanket away.

"P-puck…"

"I know what you meant now, you told me to wait and now you're here and you're you and I just… Quinn…" His lips attach to her neck and he's pushing her thighs apart.

Quinn grabs onto his shoulder. "I don't… think we…"

Puck pulls away, his hand cupping her face so she has no choice but to look up at him. His other hand is fumbling to unbuckle his belt. His eyes are hooded but he keeps them on hers. "It's supposed to be you, Q. I know it is… we couldn't before, you said we couldn't but we can now…" His lips are on hers again and she makes a stifled noise, her hand grabbing his side desperately. He sits up, pulling the blanket away and it slides out of her grip and he's pushing his jeans down and reaching to grab the back of her neck, leaning down as he mumbles against her lips. "You want this, right Q?"

Her breathing is raspy, her hands grabbing his shirt in tight fists. "I-I… Puck…"

"Tell me you want it."

She closes her eyes tightly. Back in her present, she does want it. She wants it but she can't. "Puck—"

"Tell me you want it… 'cause I want it, Q, this is all I've ever wanted…" His hands slide over her breasts and she bites her lip from the familiarity. "Just say it."

"I… I want it, Puck…"

He groans, his head falling forward against her shoulder before he reaches between them, guiding himself into her. Quinn's back arches, laying her hand flat against his back. "Oh… god…"

Puck groans again, his head turning to kiss her neck as his hand moves into her hair again, pushing into her. "Q… fuck, oh fuck you feel so good, just like I… fuck…" His thrusting grows faster, erratic and hurried. Quinn moans and he tenses a bit at the sound, his teeth grazing her jaw. "Fuck, Q, yes…"

"Puck… oh…" Quinn's knees lift a little, pressing into his sides as she shudders. He's thrusting faster, one of his hands keeping her hips steady and in place and in his control and its different and the same all at once. Her stomach muscles start to twist and she can feel him tense again. Her fingernails dig into his back. "P-puck…" He nods, pulling away a little as his other hand grabs her hip as well, pulling her against him as he thrusts.

"Come on, Q, come… fuck…" She lets out a moan before her head tilts back, eyes closing before she feels his hand on her jaw and he's pulling her face back towards his. "Look at me." Quinn squirms a bit, forcing her eyes open and on his, whimpering as he looks down at her, eyes half-lidded.

"Oh yes, oh god…"

"Let go, Q, just fucking let go…"

She reaches up to cup his face in her hand, fingernails digging into his skin as her stomach muscles twitch. Puck's fingers grip her hips as she comes, her chest pressing up against his as she shudders under him. He groans, his eyes sliding shut as he lets go and his hand slides around to the back of her head again. They wait like that for a moment, panting and sweating, his hand grabbing her hair harder than he means to as he tries to put himself back together. "Q… Quinn, that was…" He collapses next to her, not even bothering to pull his jeans back up as they lay the grass, the blanket still under her. They stare up at the sky for a while and the sun is setting. Quinn shivers. Puck reaches out and his arms wrap around her, pulling her to him. She closes her eyes and lets her face bury in his chest. She misses this, this closeness. In her present, she doesn't let anyone get this close now. Not again.

"Quinn…" He's mumbling into her hair.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me if you're going, okay? I don't want you to just… disappear…"

She twists her neck so she can look up at him.

"What?"

He pushes her hair out of her face. "When you… go back to whenever you came from, just tell me if you think you're going?" She nods but doesn't quite understand and they go back to lying the way they were. Quinn even drifts off from the warmth of his body and the blanket that he's pulled around him. It's almost dark when she feels light headed like she did in the tub.

"Puck…"

His eyes blink open and he looks down at her quickly.

"Yeah? Are you going?"

"I don't… I just feel really dizzy." His arms tighten around her as if he can make her stay and he buries his face in her hair. She grabs onto his shirt and her head is swimming until he's not holding her anymore and she's rolling across her bedroom floor in her mom's house in 2010, the day before her seventeenth birthday and her mom is calling up the stairs.

"Quinnie? Sam is here to see you!"

Quinn panics, reaching to grab her pajamas from where they're strewn across the bedroom floor. "Just a minute!"

But there's a knock on her door and she can hear Sam's voice on the other side. "Quinn? You okay?"

She pulls the pajamas on, not having time for underwear and pads over to the door, opening it quickly.

"Yeah. Fine. Hi." She's out of breath and he gives her a weird look but steps in. She watches him, closing the door. "So… uh… what are you doing here?"

He sits down on her bed, smiling a bit. "Early birthday present. Nice pajamas." Quinn looks down at herself and realizes they're the pajamas B got her two years ago, ones she only wears when she's upset. They have cupcakes all over them.

"Thanks."

Sam pats his knee. "Come here." She walks over hesitantly, messing with where her hair is matted behind her head. She sits down and he kisses her cheek. "You okay? You look kind of… out of it." She shakes her head, her mouth a tight line.

"I'm fine…" He nods and kisses her cheek again and starts talking about Batman and Quinn tries to pay attention but the next day at school when she's walking down the hall, hugging her notebook to her chest, she tries to walk past Puck in a hurry without looking at him but he sees her, calling down the hall to her.

"Happy birthday, Q."

She ignores him, walking into the woman's bathroom, sitting down in a stall and puts her head in her hands. It's not until years later, when she begins to date the man who becomes her husband, that he tells her that she was actually his first.


	6. forty years old

Quinn doesn't even have time to fully wake up, catching a glimpse of the bedroom ceiling in the dark before its gone and Puck isn't snoring next to her. Instead she's falling into a bush, her head swimming from being ripped out of sleep and being thrown into god knows when. It takes a moment for Quinn to take stock of herself, check her arms and limbs before she realizes she's in a bush. She's never travelled anywhere else except the field behind Puck's house and there are no bushes. No bushes at all. Somewhere pretty close by, she thinks she hears cars, a road maybe. Quinn sits up, her legs hanging out of the bush as she tries to look around. She's certainly not in the field, so her hopes of clothing being within reach is pretty much gone. There's a car parked on the curb a few yards away where there's a street and she glances around before making a run for it.

The car is unlocked, thank god for Lima's sense of security, and there are a few items of clothes strewn in the backseat. Quinn pulls the pair of jeans and a flannel that is jammed under the seat on and hurries away from the car, walking quickly. It worries her that she's not in the field, that she's somewhere else where she has no one to tell her what year it is or give her something to eat. Her stomach growls but she keeps walking, bare feet in the grass on the side of the road. She thinks she recognizes the road though and feels a little bit of relief that she's at least in Lima.

When the road finally ends and she's forced to stop walking for the first time since she stole the clothes from the car, the grass to the left of her slopes into a field and Quinn is standing over a cemetery. It's the Woodlawn Cemetery, which she knows for a fact is in Lima but this still can't tell her what year it is and why she's here. At the bottom of the slope, a funeral is being held. A small group of people are standing with their backs towards her. Quinn watches for a long time, a pit growing in her stomach. At the front of the group, she can see the back of a shaved head.

She can't be here, she's not supposed to be, but something inside of her keeps her glued to that spot, watching as the funeral group starts to disperse, the people turning around to walk back to their cars. The crowd parts and soon only a man is standing in front of the hole the coffin must've just been lowered into. She watches him for a long time, willing him to not turn around before she's gone. She can feel it coming but it's slow, teasing at the edges of her being. She wills it to go faster, to be gone and back home safe in bed. But he starts to turn.

_Don't look up, please please… Don't look up…_

Puck, dressed completely in black and looking an undeterminable age, looks up at her, yards away down the hill. She wants to look away but she can't. She's slowly peeling away. It takes her a moment to realize Puck is holding a little boy's hand, a boy that must've been standing in front of him at the funeral, out of Quinn's view. The boy is blonde and tan and sees her immediately. Puck is looking at her in amazement. The boy lets go of his hand, starting to run up the hill. She's dissolving like an Alka-Seltzer tablet. The boy is yelling and she can barely make out what he's saying. "I knew you would come back! Momma, momma! Daddy, look!"

Quinn falls back onto the bed and it's still dark in their room. Puck groans, rolling over and he's half asleep. "Baby?" Quinn realizes she's panting and she can't catch her breath. Puck's arm wraps around her and he kisses her shoulder. "You're back…" Quinn swallows, her mouth dry. She stares up at the ceiling. Beside her, Puck sits up a little, trying to get a good look at her face. "You okay?"

"P-puck… I…"

His hand is on her face and in the dark, he looks worried. She looks up at him, eyebrows knitted together. "Quinn? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I… I…"

His thumb rubs her jaw, situating himself over her. "Talk to me, Quinn, talk to me, are you hurt? What happened?"

"Puck—"

"Fuck, do you need to go to the hospital?"

"Puck, I'm pregnant."


	7. ten years old

She ends up determined to have the most peaceful pregnancy ever. She doesn't tell him what she saw. Every day, she is simply determined to make it through that one day. Each doctor's visit is a gift to her. By some miracle, she doesn't travel. She doesn't name the baby.

"What about James?" Puck sticks his head out of the shower in the morning when he's getting ready for work. She's lying in bed, her t-shirt hiked up to expose her stomach and she's touching it more than she usually lets herself. Touching it would be acknowledging it's solid existence. And that would be too much to bear if something were to happen. She doesn't even want to think about all the complications. So she doesn't. Quinn bites her lip, her eyes on her stomach.

"I… don't know…" She hears him turn the shower off and there's rustling before he walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"You don't know?"

Quinn fixes him with a look. "I told you. Peaceful, relaxing gestation. No stress, no arguments, no names."

He looks down, his hands on the edge of his towel as his knee hits the bed a few times. She can feel the vibrations run up through the mattress and it jiggles her a little, which makes him smile. "Come on, Q… you're eight months. I think it's okay—"

"Don't." It snaps out of her mouth and takes him aback. Puck blinks at her once before he climbs forward on the bed and sets his hand on her knee.

"Hey… baby, look at me." She messes with the hem of her shirt instead. Puck squeezes her knee, his voice a little more commanding this time. "Quinn." Her breath catches in her throat and she looks up at him, startled. He raises his eyebrows at her. "You've come farther than you ever thought you could, right?" When she doesn't acknowledge his words, he squeezes her knee again. Quinn nods. "Don't you think we're past worrying? I think we deserve to celebrate this a little."

She takes a few deep breaths. She's about to agree with him when suddenly, she feels her knee disappear under his hand. They both look up at each other and she can see fear in his eyes before she's gone.

By some miracle, Quinn appears sitting in the grass for the first time. There's no fall and no bump. She's just sitting. And Puck isn't there yet, but her shirt is. When she pulls it on, it stretches tightly over her expanded stomach and she feels like a beached whale. Quinn sits carefully, wrapping the blanket around the rest of her. It's a little warmer today, possibly summer, and the flannel is hot but she feels better. There's nothing to eat or drink, to her pregnant dissatisfaction. She could really go for a plate of hot wings and honey mustard right now.

Quinn waits for an unusually long time before Puck is finally running into the clearing. He still has his backpack on, the same ratty one he had all through elementary school. He's smiling. She rarely sees him smile when she travels here. It makes her smile. Her arms wrap around her stomach and she tries to hide her size.

"Q!"

He bounds over to her, his tiny fists around the straps of his bookbag. She can't help but smile up at him.

"Hi, Puck."

He's grinning down at her. "Guess what."

"What?"

He's sitting down now, ruffling through his bag before pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. He smoothes out the creases with childlike determination before handing it to her. _This certifies that Noah Judah Puckerman has successfully completed the fifth grade_. She lets out a laugh.

"Well well well… I think a congratulations is in order." Quinn looks up and he's kneeling in front of her and there's a quick moment as they smile at each other and suddenly his arms are around her. Puck doesn't hug a lot of people at this age. It startles her for a moment before she wraps her arms around him too. She thinks of the little boy she didn't recognize that ran to her in the graveyard. Then she pushes the thought from her mind. Puck's face is in her hair.

"Thank you."

Quinn pulls away a little so she can look him in the eye. She knows this is important to him. He trusts her. "Why do you say that?"

He blinks as if she asked an obvious question. "Because you're my friend and the guidance counselor they make me talk to at school says you don't get anywhere without friends. So I couldn't have gotten anywhere without you."

Her hormones are out of whack at eight months pregnant and suddenly she's crying. Through her tears, she can see she's startled him and she reaches out, shaking her head. "Oh god, I'm scaring you… Puck I promise I'm not sad. I just know…" She looks down at her lap, obscured by her blanket covered belly and shakes out a sob. "I know things are hard for you but I just want you to know that everything is going to get better soon, okay? And where I come from in the future, you have a _great_ life…" Quinn sniffs, looking up at him to see that he's not even listening to her. His eyes are on her stomach, which has become more obvious through her sobbing. The blanket has fallen away a little and he can see the hard round shell that is her pregnant stomach. He stares in awe.

"Woah, Q…" Puck reaches out, then retracts his hand. "Are you… like…"

Quinn takes a deep breath. Puck has never mentioned seeing her pregnant. She isn't sure what to say. So she tells him the truth, as always. "I'm pregnant, yeah…"

His eyes are impossibly wide when he looks up at her. "Can I… touch it?"

She lets out a teary laugh and wipes her eyes before taking his small hand in hers. "Of course, here…" She lays his palm flat on the side of her stomach where she knows he can feel a kick. "Now if we just wait…" They're both very still for a long moment before she finally feels the baby inside her turn, the tiny little foot pushing against Puck's hand. Puck yelps in response, jumping back.

"Holy shit!"

"Language."

"What was that?"

Quinn rubs her stomach slowly, her eyes on him as she smiles. "He kicked."

Puck bites his lips and finally tears his eyes away from her stomach. "It's a boy." Quinn nods. "What's his name."

"Well… he doesn't have a name just yet."

"That's dumb, why would you not name your baby?"

Quinn sucks in a breath. This Puck and the one she just left in the future are all too alike. "Because… I just haven't yet." His eyes go back to studying her stomach. "What do you think I should name him?"

He thinks for a long moment before a devilish grin crosses his face. "Noah."

She laughs. "I don't think so…"

He pouts and sits down in front of her, his hand carefully reaching out for her stomach again. She doesn't stop him. "Why not? Noah is the best name, Q."

Quinn watches him, her head turned to the side slightly. "I'm not naming him Noah…"

There's a long pause before he looks up at her. "Eli."

Quinn stops breathing. "Puck…" She puts her hand over his. "That's your dad's name."

He frowns, his hands pulling away from her. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything about you."

As a ten year old, this does not sit well with him. He paces before going to kick around the dirt a few feet away. She watches him patiently.

"Puck…"

"It's not fair."

She bites her lip. "What's not fair?"

He kicks again, rougher this time. "You know everything about me. I know nothing about you. If you were really my friend, I would know things about you."

Quinn swallows hard before she struggles to stand, her hand on her stomach. She tries to hold the blanket around her still. "How about this…" She walks over to him slowly. "Now you know the name of my baby."

Puck turns his small face up to her. "Really?" Quinn nods and Puck's hand reaches out and lands square on her stomach. "Eli?"

"Eli." The word comes out in a sigh as she starts to feel dizzy. Oh no. Quinn grabs onto his hand. "Puck, I'm going."

His hands grab onto hers. "Okay, Q."

"Congratulations on graduating the fifth grade."

"Congratulations on getting knocked up."

The last thing she sees is his smirk before she's stumbling in her backyard in her present, holding her stomach protectively. She's trying to catch her breath when she feels it, something more present than the feeling of disappearing ever was. Puck's running down the porch steps as she bends over, gritting her teeth.

"Baby…?" He cups her face and turns it towards him, examining her. But in a split second he can tell it isn't the traveling he needs to be worried about right now. "Oh my god… please tell me you're not—"

"Eli." Quinn gasps as the contraction ends, her hands gripping his arm as tight as she can. He looks at her, confused.

"Huh? Quinn, if you're in labor we need to—"

"I was in the field and you were ten and you had just graduated fifth grade and you touched my stomach and you told me to name it Eli." She looks up at him, desperately needing him to understand before this happens. Because she won't be ready until he understands. Finally, she watches the understanding dawn on his face like sunrise and he's smiling.

"Eli."

"You never told me you saw me pregnant."

He lets out a laugh. "To be honest… I forgot." Then she's gripping his arm again as another contraction starts. "Oh shit… oh damn, Quinn okay let's just… We'll get the bag and we'll go. We'll go to the hospital and… oh my god, we're having a baby." He's helping her into the house as the idea seems to occur to him. It would've made her laugh if she didn't feel like she might be being eaten alive from the inside by a horrible alien monster growing in her womb.

"I hate you so much."

He grins at her and helps her into something that passes for being dressed and then into the car. "I love you too."


End file.
